


Second Time Around

by smalltrolven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, None except warnings for season 13 spoilers.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 11:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14914244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smalltrolven/pseuds/smalltrolven
Summary: The brothers are back in Smith & Wesson land, working at Sandover Iron Works once again. But this time Dean Smith knows he’s really Dean Winchester, unfortunately the only thing Sam Wesson knows is that he’s really into Dean Smith.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not my characters, only my words. Written for the 2018 [](https://wincest-reverse.livejournal.com/profile)[wincest_reverse](https://wincest-reverse.livejournal.com/) bang.  Title from the song, Frank Sinatra’s version: “[The Second Time Around](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDqlHcjbLaI)”. Great big thanks for a timely and very helpful beta from[](https://jdl71.livejournal.com/profile)[jdl71](https://jdl71.livejournal.com/).  Thank you to [](https://merakieross.livejournal.com/profile)[merakieross](https://merakieross.livejournal.com/) for such an inspiring piece of art to write for!

  
Be sure and check out the awesome art masterpost right here[ LJ ](https://merakieross.livejournal.com/12387.html)or [Tumblr](http://merakierosart.tumblr.com/post/174821912134/the-brothers-are-back-in-smith-wesson-land)

  
*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

_“Love is lovelier the second time around. Just as wonderful with both feet on the ground” ~ lyrics by Sammy Cahn_

He could see both of their faces in the elevator mirror, and they both had matching expressions that said, ‘not this shit again!’ which was funny because of where they were. He smiled and his brother returned the smile, stood up a little straighter, making the yellow polo shirt pull even more tightly across his chest. He knew he needed to look away, even in a mirror, Sam was going to notice. Adjusting his suspenders under his suit jacket was a good diversion.

“Sammy, why the hell are we here again?” Dean asked, meeting Sam’s eyes in the elevator mirror.

Sam’s smiling face clouded over in confusion. “I’m sorry, have we met? I mean, I know your name of course, since I kind of work for you and all. And I should probably just uh…go, here’s my floor,” Sam babbled, exiting the elevator the moment the doors opened on the executive floor.

Dean followed behind him, wondering what the hell Sam was playing at, they needed to figure out how to get back home from wherever the hell they were this time. It had to be angels again, right?

Of course that was when he ran right into Sam who was doubling back to the elevator in a heedless rush. They collided, full force and Dean was going down to the marble floor if not for Sam’s big hands grabbing him around the waist. They stopped for a moment that stretched longer than Sam’s hair, curling around that yellow polo’s collar.

“We need to figure out how to get out of here,” Dean said, taking a step backwards and having to stop because of the potted palm. Sam had him practically backed into the wall here, he just needed some space.

Sam’s eyes went from surprised to confused to compassionate understanding in a moment which made Dean wonder again, what was going on with Sam.

“I had heard—uh, about your loss recently, Mr. Smith. It’s really hard losing family like that,” Sam said all wavering voice and sincere concern.

“What are you talking about? Why are you calling me Mr. Smith?”

“Well, I didn’t think we were on a first name basis. My momma raised me to wait until I knew that for sure, especially in the workplace with a superior.”

Dean could tell then, right then and there down to his toes that while this was still his Sam, the man did not know him besides someone that he worked for and that was so many kinds of wrong it was pointless to try and count it up.

He sighed and looked past Sam’s broad, yellow-knit covered shoulders over the floor of elegant executive offices that went as far as he could see. “Listen, Sam, I need some help with my desktop system, would you mind giving it a look?”

“Sure, I’d be happy to check it out for you, Mr. Smith. I haven’t shown my face downstairs yet, so I’ll be right back up, okay?”

“That’d be great, and you can go ahead and call me, Dean,” Dean said.

Sam seemed to stand up even straighter at that, practically blocking out the tasteful lighting fixtures above. “Sure thing, I’ll be back in just a sec, Dean.”

Dean was shaking his head at himself as he stood watching as Sam hustled off to the elevator bay. How had he found a pair of khakis that fit those long legs of his so well? Not to mention how they hugged his—

“Nice of you to finally join us this morning, Mr. Smith,” a smarmy voice interrupted his entirely inappropriate thoughts.

“Okay, what the hell is this, some kind of this-is-your-life re-run?” Dean demanded.

“That is a very strange way to address your immediate superior, Mr. Smith.”

“You’re not—you can’t be kidding me right now. No, c’mon really is it you, Zachariah?”

“Your surprise is so very very touching, Dean,” Zachariah snarked.

“No, really, I stabbed you in the face, you died, I saw the outline of your wings,” Dean said.

Zachariah practically growled in the back of his throat, he raised a hand and crushed it into a fist, his face going red with effort. Dean braced himself but nothing happened, not a damn thing, the angel had no juice.

“Let’s just say, my boss has a sense of humor, unlike yours. Let’s both just get back to work, and leave the past in the past, huh, champ?” Zachariah said. “Your monthly sales reports are still due on my desk in an hour.” Zachariah stalked away down towards the corner office, the office lights glancing off his bald head striking Dean as an off-center halo.

The last thing he remembered was Amara and God showing up in the bunker, just as he and Sam had been sitting down to eat the dinner he’d spent all afternoon preparing. His stomach growled at the thought of the lasagna cooling on the kitchen table, the big bowl of Caesar salad, freshly made croutons going soggy in the dressing. The two glasses of red wine that would be stale by the time they got back. If they got ba—no, _when_ they got back home.

He tried to get himself to focus, before Sam showed up and set him off on paths he shouldn’t be going down, he was not going there after all these years of studiously ignoring and over-compensating. Yeah, he’d always had those thoughts about Sam, and as the good big brother he always tried his best to be, he’d kept them hidden from Sam. As one should, obviously. It would be better if he didn’t have them of course, but he did have them, always had and he supposed he always would. Back to being resigned to loving and desiring the one person in the world he could never…

But returning to the subject of Amara and Chuck, they’d looked happy there in the bunker’s kitchen, and he could swear he remembered that they’d been giggling, but what had it been about? Chuck had said something about giving him what he really wanted this time since Amara had screwed up the first time.

Dean sat down in the comfortable leather chair at his desk and sipped at his hazelnut latte. It was coming back to him now, they’d come back to Earth to sort out the convoluted mess that was Jack, Lucifer and Mary. There had been something about needing to put the systems of both Heaven and Hell back on track.

“You two did your best holding it together for us, now go be happy,” Chuck had said with that twinkle in his eye. And then he and Sam had been in the elevator. And only one of them remembered who they were. That had to be for a reason. How were he and Sam supposed to be happy if they weren’t starting out on the same page? How was that even fair?

There was a quiet knock at the door and without thinking he said, “Yeah, come in."

Sam opened the door a little hesitantly. “Hey, Mr. Smi—uh, Dean, got my stuff. Show me what’s going on with your system.”

Dean rolled back slightly from his desk leaving Sam space to join him. “It’s not booting up when I turn it on,” Dean said, leaning around Sam to push the button on the computer under his desk.

Sam crouched down next to him and their shoulders brushed. Dean watched in fascination as Sam’s head tilted as he listened to the straining electronic sounds coming from his computer. Sam pressed into his shoulder for a moment more and then quickly crawled under the desk. Dean could hear him fooling with the computer’s cables and cords, but he was more interested in what Sam’s body looked like in that position when seen from this close.

He scrambled to pull his suit coat together over his lap as Sam backed out from underneath the desk.

“Go ahead and try it again,” Sam said.

He leaned in and pressed the on button, brushing against the glossy sheath of Sam’s hair. The small hairs on the back of his hand stood up at attention and a drizzle of desire trickled down his spine at the contact.

The machine whirred and clunked back to life, the usual log-in screen appearing. Dean typed in his login and password, the same as on his one back home: Impala67 and May021983.  He was disappointed when it worked, because that meant Sam was going to leave.

Sam stood up from his crouch below the desk, and Dean rolled back a bit in his chair to stare up at him. Sam noticed his stare and adjusted his shoulders with a deep breath and a nervous smile.

“Looks like it’s working now. But I’ll put you on the list for an upgrade, it sounds like your CPU is working too hard. It might be something small like just the fan not functioning well enough, but you may also need an upgraded CPU to handle the SAS you’re running.”

Dean was dazzled by the waves of competence and helpfulness, as well as the way his brother was looking at him. What was it Sam was seeing? He was just in a suit, like any other time they played at being Feds. Dean touched his hair, remembering the hair styling oil from last time. Sam closely tracked the movements of his hand. Dean felt himself begin to blush at the attention and his hand moved to the back of his neck in his self-comfort gesture. The one that Sam had told him was one of his ‘tells’ a long time ago. This Sam was seeing it for the first time, and made him gentle his smile even more, like he was holding in an ‘awww cute’ comment. Dean scowled a little at that and Sam took a step back, shaking his head to break his stare.

“Thanks for coming up so quickly, Sam. You pretty much saved my ass today, I owe you one,” Dean said.

“Any time, Dean. I’ll let you get started on your day,” Sam said, backing out of the door with a little wave and an almost wink of one eye.

“Bye, Sam,” Dean said with his own wave. He wished he had a reason to have Sam stay here, so he’d know where he was in this strange world, not even knowing who the hell he was. And this place was haunted too, he just remembered, so there was some real danger to worry about.

A knock at his door made him drop that worry. First Amara and then Chuck entered his office, closing the door behind them.

“Hi, Dean,” Amara said.

“What the hell is this? You bring us back to the real world right the fuck now!” Dean demanded.

“We’re just here to place the quarterly order for our company,” Amara said with a sickly sweet smile.

“No—don’t even bother, Amara. I don’t know what this is supposed to be, some kind of curse or test or whatever, just please, bring us back home,” Dean said.

“Mr. Smith, may I call you Dean?” Chuck asked, extending a hand for a confused Dean to shake. “We need to set some ground rules for this interaction. I can’t have you yelling at my partner here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just having a very confusing day,” Dean said, sitting back into his chair and letting his head sink into his hands for a moment to regain some composure.

“Yes, I can imagine, your first day back at work after a family tragedy, it’s understandable,” Amara said.

Dean looked up at her sharply. That was the second time he’d heard something like that, the first was from Sam.  “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t it your mother and step-brother who were recently lost?” Chuck asked.

Dean nodded, trying to put it all back into focus. The alternative universe they’d tried to rescue Mom and Jack from, going through the rift with the angels. All the death and destruction there, having to return without even finding them.

“I’m sure they’re in a better place,” Amara said, the faux concern wasn’t selling the platitude.

“You would know,” Dean said, a bitter taste in his mouth at the words. She was the one who’d ripped Mary out of her Heaven, hopefully she’d put her back there. “She back where she belongs at least?”

“Yes, Dean, she is, think that’ll help us close our deal here?” Chuck interrupted.

“Depends on the deal, Chuck. Listen, I don’t know what you two are playing at, but Sam and me, we need a damn break here.”

“Dean, that’s what this is, a break for you and Sam. When you’re done here with what you need to learn, then we’ll let you decide if you want to go back or not, okay?” Amara asked, so perky that Dean wanted to reach out and mess up her perfect hairstyle and scream right into her face.

“Why can’t you just tell me, save me some time?” Dean asked.

“We all know the answer to that particular question. Listen, we’ll be back the moment you figure this out. Get to it now,” Chuck said encouragingly as he stood up. “Amara, we need to catch our train to Chicago.”

“Train?” Amara asked.

“You’re going to love it, sis,” Chuck said, guiding her out through the office door. It swung closed behind them and Dean put his head down on his crossed arms on his desk, looking out at the early spring blue sky. Why couldn’t they just be straight with him? All this mystery for no good reason was just irritating.

Dean’s cell phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. He opened it up and read it with a growing smile on his face.

_Dean, I hope this isn’t too forward, and that you’re not mad that I’m texting you. I swiped one of your business cards off your desk to get the number. Anyway…do you think we could go get a drink or coffee or something after work? I have some things I need to ask you. Thanks, Sam_

Dean smiled as he wrote his reply. He had to keep some space between them, so it would have to be the option of coffee, drinks might be too easily misinterpreted. Since Sam was making the first move, he wanted to be cautious and not lead him on into anything.

_Sam, Not mad, nope, glad you texted me. And sure, coffee sounds fine. I might have a dinner meeting, so will 5:30 at the Starbucks in the lobby work for you?_

Dean was surprised at how happy he was to get both a happy face and winking emoji in response. He wasn’t sure what his brother meant by it, but he’d have a chance to ask him tonight.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

Coffee turned into dinner without Dean consciously making that decision. There was something about being with this version of Sam, unfettered by his memories and worries, free and easy with his laughter, it was more than intoxicating it was addictive. He wasn’t going to be able to get enough of this. He still had no idea what the hell he was supposed to learn, but he hoped it took a while so he could soak up all the happy-Sam goodness.

The dessert was being served by the time Dean came out of his Sam-stupor,

“I still can’t get over how familiar you are. The first time I saw you in the elevator, it was such a strong feeling. Then you told me to ‘save it for the health club, pal’ and I tried to not think about it.”

“I’m sorry about that, Sam,” Dean said, reaching across the table to place a hand on top of Sam’s. He was surprised when Sam twined their fingers together and sparkled at him even more brightly through the dimness of the restaurant.

“And I’m sorry about the whole thing with your family,” Sam said with this sincerity that seriously melted Dean’s heart.

“It’s really okay, thanks. Hey, let’s get out of here, huh?” Dean said, reluctantly letting go of Sam’s hand and standing up from the table. He guided Sam out of the restaurant with one hand on Sam’s warm lower back.

They were at the door to Sam’s apartment building much too soon, Dean didn’t want this perfect night to be over. Sam didn’t seem to either, shocking Dean as he gathered him in his arms and leaned down to brush his lips gently against Dean’s with a quiet ‘hmm’ questioning sound that broke Dean's heart the rest of the way. How could he possibly tell this man no and make it stick? How could he ever really mean it?

He pushed himself away, out of Sam’s arms and mumbled a sorry that no one believed and practically ran away. He spent all night tossing and turning, having horrible dreams of Sam dying, throat ripped out by a monster in a dark tunnel, alternating with another of Sam naked in his bed, Dean biting him in the same place on Sam’s neck, as Sam writhed underneath him, perfect body hot and warm against his own.

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*


	2. Chapter 2

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

 

_Sam: Got the flowers and your note, thanks for both, Dean. That was a really nice surprise. How’d you know I like peonies? See you at lunchtime._

 

_Dean: Meet you down in the lobby at noon_

 

_Sam: I’ll be there_

 

_Dean: Good_

 

The walk to lunch was quiet, Dean could tell there was a lot going on in Sam’s mind, probably even more than was swirling through his own. Once they got themselves seated and had beers in front of them, Dean finally decided to clear the air.

 

“Listen, Sam, I want you to know, I’d want to be with you in a heartbeat if we weren’t co-workers. But it doesn’t feel right, since I’m a VP and everything…you know, to be dating you.”

 

“You’d be doing me a favor, I’m planning on quitting the end of the summer anyway, going back to finish up college. I’ll just do it a little sooner.”

 

“Wait, you are?” Dean asked, sounding sad and surprised at Sam still wanting to do the college thing even in this Chuck-created construct.

 

“Yeah, I had to quit for a few years so I could get my sister squared away at school herself. Now that she’s gotten herself situated, it’s finally my turn to finish up.”

 

“You’re an awesome big brother, Sammy,” Dean said, admiring his little brother’s consistency, he had the same big giving heart, the same selfless spirit, the same persistence to reach his goals. For a moment he wished he could let Sam stay in this fantasy world and actually get to finish school. After all these years, it was apparently still part of the story he told himself, deep down in his subconscious. Not a big surprise though, Sam had always been a stubborn little shit like that.

 

“Sammy? I haven’t had anyone call me that in years,” Sam said, ducking his head down with an embarrassed smirk.

 

“Is it okay? For me to call you that?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah, it’s more than fine,” Sam said. “But first you have to tell me why me maybe going back to college makes you so sad.”

 

Dean couldn’t think of what to say at first, of course he was sad to hear that Sam still wanted something that he was never going to get, not if he was in their life back home. Not if he was stuck in the Bunker with his big brother holding him back from achieving his dreams.

 

“You know how I was telling you about my brother last night, how we’d been so close and all. Well, he went off to school, left me behind without a single look back and it hasn’t been the same since.”

 

“But look at you now, you’ve made it big here. I’m sure he must be really proud of you,” Sam insisted.

 

“He’s not…he’s not—“ Dean couldn’t answer, because he knew that wasn’t something that had ever been true.

 

“Oh no, that’s not who passed away in your family?” Sam interrupted, obviously worried that he’d brought up something Dean didn’t want to discuss.

 

“No! That’s not—no he’s not dead, we’re just not seeing each other clearly lately,” Dean said, not sure how else to express it to his brother who didn’t know they were brothers. He looked Sam over again, seeing the difference in how he held himself, he stood taller not stooped over or trying to hide his height, his chest out with confidence, it was remarkable the difference. He wondered why that was, if it was something that his Sam consciously knew he was doing.

 

“That can be hard, I get like that with my sister sometimes,” Sam said, sounding so understanding it made Dean’s heart just ache.

 

“Your sister?” Dean asked, wondering who Sam was talking about.

 

“Yeah, Jo, she’s pretty much all I’ve got at this point as far as family goes.”

 

“Where does she live?” Dean asked, feeling a wave of sadness at his old memories of Jo.

 

“California, she’s in college, just started her second year at Stanford,” Sam said.

 

“You talked to her lately?” Dean asked, wondering how deep this story went, because last time it had crumbled almost instantly the second they had made a phone call to check out the memories they’d thought they’d had.

 

“No, why?” Sam asked.

 

“No reason, just wondering what she’d say to you trying to date your boss,” Dean said. “Maybe I should call her and ask her permission.”

 

“Sure, here you go,” Sam said with a grin, handing over his cellphone with a smiling picture of Jo lit up and the green phone call button lit and flashing.

 

Dean snagged the phone and wondered who he’d be talking to, and wasn’t too surprised when it was a recorded message for donations for a pet shelter. He passed the phone back to Sam. “You sure that’s her number?”

 

Sam listened to the message with worry beginning to fill his eyes. He looked down at the screen and checked the number. “Yeah, it’s always been her number, what the hell?”

 

“Maybe she switched her number?” Dean asked, not sure how he could help when he knew Jo was long gone and not Sam’s sister.

 

“She wouldn’t do that and not tell me,” Sam said.

 

“I’m sure she’s fine, probably forgot to pay her bill or something,” Dean said.

 

“That sounds like her actually. So…um, sorry, what were we talking about?” Sam asked.

 

Dean was surprised that his attempt to change the subject away from Sam’s nonexistent sister worked so easily, but then he remembered how it had felt in this world, how unreal and fuzzy the edges of things a step or two away from the current situation were. How it had been so easy to ignore the inconsistencies. “You and me, I was trying to turn you down because we work together.”

 

Sam reached for Dean’s hand again and took it in his. “Look, Dean I want to pursue something with you, and if you won’t date me if I’m working at Sandover then I’ll quit.”

 

“No…don’t do that, Sammy. We’ll figure it out,” Dean said, instantly hating himself for giving in so easily. He needed to have Sam stay on board at Sandover to play the game with Zachariah that Chuck and Amara had set up for them. He needed him there to learn the lesson that they’d set out for them both to learn. At least that was the excuse he was going with.

 

Sam squeezed his hand even tighter, but his smile was all that Dean could see. It was everything in that moment, he’d never seen Sam smile like that, not at anyone, and certainly not at him. That smile promised everything, that he’d be desired, cherished, even loved. And who the hell could say no to that? Dean knew with a sick certainty that he wasn’t strong enough to resist it.

 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

Dean tried his best to work hard that afternoon, though none of it made much sense to him. The calls his secretary kept routing to his phone, the emails that continued to roll into his inbox, the only thing that kept him trying was seeing Zachariah’s smarmy grin as he passed by the office door. He didn’t trust him not to screw this up for them somehow.

 

“How’s it going, Dean? Got those quarterlies for me yet?” Zachariah asked, just his head leaned into Dean’s office.

 

Dean scowled and shook his head. “I’m not up for this right now, Zach.”

 

Zachariah scowled right back and pursed his lips. “That’d be Mr. Adler to you, Dean. Don’t leave tonight until you’ve left them on my desk, got it?”

 

Dean sketched out a sarcastic salute. “Yes, sir, Mr. Adler, sir.”

 

Zachariah rolled his eyes and his head disappeared from the doorway.

 

Dean bent over his desk, putting his mind to the task, his brain whirled with the pointlessness of it all. Producing a report that wasn’t real, in this world that didn’t mean anything for someone who really wasn’t his boss. It was taking time away from figuring things out with Sam. That was what was important to him, always was. Who knew, maybe it was involved in the lesson he was meant to be learning. That seemed like the only way out of this place, if they figured it out together. He reached for his cellphone.

 

_Dean: Thanks for meeting me for lunch today, I really enjoyed it._

 

_Sam: Me too, and I wish you’d let me pay half._

 

_Dean: Dude, I’m the one that invited you, so I paid, that’s how it works._

 

_Sam: Fine, but I’m getting the next one._

 

_Dean: GMTA that’s why I’m texting you, work dinner just got canceled tonight, you free?_

 

_Sam: Definitely, time and place?_

 

_Dean: I’ll pick you up, outside your place at 7._

 

_Sam: It’s a date!_

_Sam: Oh, um, is it…a date?_

 

_Dean: Let’s just call it dinner for now, okay?_

 

_Sam: Got it, still playing hard to get._

 

_Dean: It’s not that, I’ll try to explain at dinner. It’s too much over texts._

 

_Sam: Ok, it’s cool, see you tonight._

 

_Dean: Thanks for understanding, I’ll see you._

 

 

Somehow after that small amount of contact with Sam it seemed easier to concentrate and get down to business. He pulled together all the data pretty easily, going from what the last report looked like, and then it wasn’t too hard to make the numbers fit into that format. He printed it out and left it on Zachariah’s desk on his way out. Thankfully the jerk wasn’t there because he didn’t know what he’d say or do.

 

Driving home he thought about where to take Sam for dinner, and what he was going to say to him. There was a lot to work out, he needed to keep his brother close but not lead him on. Sam saying he’d quit his job just for a chance to date him still was blowing his mind. Was that how his brother actually felt back in the real world? He’d always hidden his own feelings from Sam, or tried to, but maybe he hadn’t been successful. Fuck…what if he’d screwed Sam up for life? Was he supposed to be learning to let Sam go or bring him in even closer?

 

He pulled into his underground parking space and grabbed his briefcase. He stepped out of the Prius and hit the lock button, as it beeped he felt his skin begin to crawl with that being-watched feeling. He spun around to see who or what it was, but it was just Chuck, thankfully without Amara this time.

 

“Hey, Dean, just wanted to check in,” Chuck said with a small wave.

 

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

 

“Here to tell you that you’re on the right path, keep with it,” Chuck said.

 

“Care to elaborate?” Dean asked.

 

“Nope, can’t, not how we set this up, sorry,” Chuck said. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m rooting for you.”

 

“Are we really going to be stuck here if we don’t learn this lesson thing?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the plan, but I have faith in you kiddo. You’ve got this,” Chuck said.

 

“I know you probably think that’s encouraging, but I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing,” Dean said.

 

“Yes, you do, you were just thinking it before you got out of the car,” Chuck said, covering his mouth with his hands, eyes gone wide.

 

“So it is about Sam, or more like about Sam and me,” Dean said, smiling a little at Chuck’s antics.

 

“Yep that, and don’t forget about Jack too, he’s going to be waiting for you when you guys get back home. So…uh, that’s my cue to leave before I spill the rest of the beans, gotta go make sure Amara’s behaving in Chicago. We’re trying the pizza place that Death recommended. See you later, alligator,” Chuck said, zapping away into nothing, not even a sound of feathers accompanying his exit.

 

“I never thought I’d hear God say see you later alligator,” Dean said to himself as he waited for the garage elevator.

 

Dean was a wreck as the time to pick up Sam approached. He was all twisted up inside, especially after that visit from Chuck. There was this strong pull to just get it over with, spill his guts and tell Sam how he felt, even though they were brothers. But that urge was tempered by knowing that this wasn’t really Sam. This guy was not his Sam, and so what was the point like the rest of this stupid world?

 

He pulled up in front of Sam’s apartment building, his Prius gliding to a quiet stop in front of the entrance and Sam didn’t hear it. So Dean got a chance to take him in, got to look at him in the early twilight and appreciate him from behind. He let himself catalog all the feelings that Sam’s body evoked inside himself, instead of pretending they weren’t there. Screamingly possessive, blatantly lustful, appreciative (damn he’s so beautiful) and too many more. But then none of that mattered because Sam was turning and smiling and climbing into the car on the passenger side where he fucking belonged.

 

This is it, this is what he wants, a Sam that smiled at him _like that_ , along for the ride, even if it was a fucking Prius he had to drive.

 

Dinner at the steak place went well, they both devoured their meals and made small talk. Dean could tell Sam was trying not to be too flirty or pushy which he appreciated. While they waited for their dessert to be served, Dean decided it was time to try to say it.

 

“I’m glad you came out with me tonight, Sammy. You didn’t have to after I’d been so weird with you the last couple of days.”

 

“It has been weird, but good weird, the nicest kind of weird,” Sam said with an encouraging smile he tried to hide behind his wine glass.

 

“I’m just going to say it, I want to be with you, and I don’t want us to wait,” Dean said.

 

“Do you really want dessert?” Sam asked, with an adorable breathlessness.

 

Dean grinned and signaled their waitress back over to cancel dessert and asked for their check. He trapped Sam’s knee between his own, pressing them together and relishing the dark-eyed look he got from Sam in response. He kept a hand on Sam their whole way out of the restaurant, and all the way to his car. Before he unlocked the door, he pressed Sam up against the door, and leaned up to kiss him. Sam met him halfway and sighed as their lips finally brushed together. Dean didn’t care then, that he was in the wrong world with a Prius instead of the Impala, it all seemed to be made right with Sam kissing him like their world of two was finally put back where it was meant to be.

 

They finally got into the car and Dean got them headed back towards Sam’s apartment. Sam’s hands never left his body the whole drive and he momentarily thought they were really lucky not to have crashed. Who knew Sam’s hands could be that distracting? They parked on the street under a streetlamp that was conveniently dark. And Sam’s hands and lips and tongue took over. Dean felt himself get washed away in a tide of Sam taking him over, sweeping him under in the best way.

 

All his hesitations flew out the car window when Sam’s hand finally landed on his hard cock, pressing into his jeans so that the zipper bit a little through his silk briefs. He groaned into Sam’s mouth and pressed his hips up into Sam’s hand. The pressure was perfect, he ground himself against Sam’s hand in little circles that turned into small thrusts. Sam’s hand moved to unbutton and unzip his jeans and then Sam was reaching into his silk briefs to bring him out, and he was stroking him so perfectly Dean thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Seriously, how the hell was Sam so damn good at this.

 

“God, so good, Sammy,” Dean moaned into Sam’s mouth. Sam’s lips never stopped, his tongue kept working in time with his hand. Dean’s hands felt empty, and he reached over to do the same to Sam. He soon had him in hand, jacking him in time to Sam’s movements. The noises Sam made into his mouth filled him with more lust and joy that he felt he could contain, that feeling put him over the edge, coming hard and hot all over Sam’s hand. Sam followed quickly afterwards, and Dean woke up with a start from this fantasy he’d allowed to come true.

 

This was his brother’s hot come beginning to cool on his hand, and he watched with a sinking feeling of horror and guilt in his stomach as Sam brought his own hand up to his mouth and licked it clean of Dean’s come. It was the hottest single thing he’d ever seen. But what the hell had he just done to Sam? His own Sam would never have—he shouldn’t have done this!

 

Sam’s face changed as he no doubt saw the panic on his face. He hadn’t managed or even tried to hide his reaction at all. “That was too much too fast, I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

He sounded so sad, and guilty and that wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all, he had nothing to feel guilty about. “No, it wasn’t. It’s not you, Sammy, it’s all me. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

 

“So what you said at dinner, you didn’t mean it?” Sam asked, not looking at Dean now, fumbling with his jeans, preparing to leave.

 

“I don’t…I can’t say—shit, I’m sorry,” Dean said, desperate to find the right words, the right explanation.

 

“Don’t bother, I get it,” Sam said getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Sam stalked into his building and was gone from view before Dean could react.

 

Dean put himself away and redid his jeans, he wanted to scream and cry, wail against the unfairness of it all. But Sam had been right, it was too much too fast, he wasn’t ready for this, maybe he’d never be ready for it. He sure as hell didn’t deserve any kind of happiness like this, and there wasn’t any way around it, this wasn’t really his Sam. Because his Sam wouldn’t have done that. Right?

 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*


	3. Chapter 3

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

 

He took the long way back to his own apartment building and pulled into his usual spot in the underground garage. He stared out at the concrete wall kind of blankly until he heard a tapping on his car window. Chuck again? He turned to look but no, it was Amara this time. She stepped back as he got out of the car.

 

“Why’d you do this, Amara? Are you trying to prove something here?”

 

“Chuck made me see I’d gotten it wrong, bringing Mary back. He put her back in Heaven where she belonged all along. But I still wanted to give you a thank-you gift for what you did for us. So, I gave you a chance to have what you’ve always wanted the very most, Sam.”

 

“How did you even know that though?” Dean asked feeling naked and afraid, particularly because he stood before her in his nicest jeans still smelling of his brother’s come. This was a reminder of her absolute power over reality.

 

“I was inside you, remember, Dean? And featuring heavily in your favorite fantasy about a life with Sam was this world Zachariah put you in all those years ago. I think I was picking up on your feelings about how it would have been so much easier for you two to finally get together because you hadn't known who you were, or that you were brothers.”

 

“But why did you have me remember myself this time?” Dean asked.

 

“Chuck said you needed to have agency,” Amara said rolling her eyes. “I told him it was stupid, that you had too many internal roadblocks, but I guess he was right…again.”

 

“I do though, I just left him, just now, high and dry. Right after telling him I wanted to be with him. I screwed it all up again,” Dean said with despair, knowing he’d fucked up their chance to get out of this place.

 

“All is not lost, Dean. Just let him give you another chance, okay?” Amara said, as she smiled and disappeared.

 

Dean sank down into his thoughts as he rode up in the elevator. His flopped on his leather couch and closed his eyes. How in the world were there any chances left for Sam to give him? How could he even ask that of him? He reached for his phone.

 

_Dean: You still up?_

 

_Sam: Yeah, just watching Sports Center_

 

_Dean: I really loved dinner, and um…dessert_

 

_Sam: Is this just a thing where you’re not up to being out and proud or something? Because I’m not into that._

 

_Dean: Not exactly, but close to it. If you give me another chance, I’ll try to explain it to you._

 

_Sam: I’ll think about it._

 

_Dean: That’s more than I deserve, good night Sammy_

 

_Sam: Night Dean_

 

Dean fell asleep on the couch and dreamed the same awful dreams of Sam dying violently and not being able to save him, of making love with Sam in his bedroom in the bunker, in the Impala and motel rooms across the country, one after the other, it was exhausting going from pinnacle of joy to the depths of despair. He felt more tired when woke up, it took a triple espresso from his complicated machine to get him going that morning. He dressed in his favorite blue shirt with the white cuffs and the matching suspenders. He slicked his hair down just right and rode off to work intending to get his man one way or the other.

 

On his desk was a steaming cup of hazelnut latte, and a bear claw pastry. There was a note next to it that read:

 

_Thought about it._

_You’re too sweet to resist._

_Can you do lunch?_

_~Sam_

 

Dean reached for his phone while he sipped the sweet coffee.

 

_Dean: Yum, this is perfect, thank you. How did you know I needed this?_

 

_Sam: Felt bad about leaving you hanging last night_

 

_Dean: You are not the one that should be feeling bad, that’s on me. We’ll keep talking at lunch right?_

 

_Sam: Maybe you should just text it to me, seems like you do better with your words if you write them down_

 

_Dean: I can’t help it that you’re so damn distracting, see you in the lobby at noon._

 

_Sam: Ok c u then, Signed, Damn Right I’m Distracting_

 

_Dean: Sticking out tongue emoji_

 

He got a morning’s worth of work done very easily, making all his sales calls with a smile on his face whenever he thought of Sam. It was all going well until Zachariah stuck his ugly mug in the doorway again.

 

“Dean, got your report, looking good, mister. Keep up the good work.”

 

“Thanks, Mr. Adler,” Dean said with a grimace.

 

“Noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with that fellow from IT. Not on company time, young man, rules are rules,” Zachariah said with a disapproving finger waggle.

 

“Even though I’m on salary and commission, I still believe I get a lunch hour,” Dean said, not mentioning Sam’s name. The less Zachariah got involved the better.

 

“You do, but his is only forty-five minutes. I’ve had a talk with his manager, he’ll be watching. Don’t want to make little Sammy lose his job do you?”

 

“Thanks for the warning,” Dean said, looking down at his work and hoping Zachariah would get the hint.

 

“I told your half-brother Adam one time that you two were psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other. And if this situation isn’t the ultimate proof of all that, I don’t know what is.”

 

“No wonder we won and you lost,” Dean said, thinking back to that satisfying moment when he’d stabbed this bastard in the face.

 

“It is a wonder, a wonder of God’s own creation indeed,” Zachariah said solemnly giving Dean a creepy smile as he finally, blessedly left him alone.

 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

Lunch went differently than it had yesterday. Mostly because all Dean could think about when he saw Sam’s hands moving over his soup and sandwich plate was that same hand being covered in his come, of Sam’s beautiful lips and tongue sucking the skin clean. He was hard almost the entire duration of lunch which was both tantalizing and embarrassing.

 

When they were walking back to work, hand in hand, Sam pulled him into a doorway alcove to kiss him rough and hard. Dean didn’t respond right away because he was shocked at the suddenness of it, Sam started to pull away, but Dean gave it back to him even harder, his lips going numb with the pressure and friction.

 

“Glad I took a chance just now,” Sam whispered into Dean’s ear as he licked and nibbled around the edge.

 

Dean shivered in Sam’s arms as a perfect thrill of lust and longing ran through him. “I’ve been hard all fucking lunch,” Dean growled into Sam’s neck, nipping at the skin just below his collar.

 

“Do you want to come over tonight, I’ll cook you dinner?” Sam asked.

 

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Dean managed to answer between long consuming kisses.

 

They walked the rest of the way to work in a hurry, adjusting themselves and giggling about it like schoolboys. Sam had his hand on Dean’s lower back in the elevator and wasn’t letting go. He stayed on the elevator when the door opened on his floor.

 

“Sam, you’re going to be late getting back from lunch,” Dean said.

 

“Don’t care, Mr. Smith, it’s obvious to me that your ‘system’ needs some adjustment. I’m here to take care of you,” Sam said with a sly grin.

 

Dean tried to hide the shiver of desire that trickled down his spine at Sam’s words, the way he’d looked so directly at where he was still hard from lunch. Then before he’d realized where this was going to go, the door was locking behind them and Sam had him backed up against Dean’s desk, his shirt was unbuttoned, suspenders off his shoulder. Sam’s lips were all over the skin of his neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping and sinking in, making Dean moan at the feeling. He tried to quiet himself but then Sam stopped the movements of his hand. Dean whined at the loss of friction.

 

“Like hearing you, so damn hot, don’t be quiet on my account, Dean,” Sam said, one hand pressing and squeezing over the obvious hard-on contained in Dean’s suit pants.

 

Dean bit his lip and groaned quietly, hoping no one walking outside his closed office door could hear, but then not caring much when Sam had his pants unzipped, his hand stroking Dean fast and sure. When Sam began riding his leg, humping down for friction Dean finally gave in and touched him, gripping Sam’s hardness through his khakis. He chuckled when he had to quickly muffle Sam’s answering groan in a deep kiss.

 

Sam increased the speed of his hand, tightening it just that little bit more that Dean needed. He mumbled against his lips, “Give it up for me, Dean. C’mon give it to me.”

 

Maybe it was because he’d been hard all through lunch, or the make-out session on the way back to work, or the demanding tone of voice Sam used, but Dean came like a shot out of his pearl-handled Colt. Sam joined him right afterwards, before Dean had even had a chance to get him out of his pants. There were some paper napkins in his desk drawer from all those take-out salads he’d been eating for them to clean up with. Dean was glad that he hadn’t gotten anything on his dress shirt that would show. Luckily Sam’s khakis had been spared also.

 

Sam tucked his yellow polo shirt back in and ran his fingers through his hair. He pulled Dean’s suspenders up one by one, cinched his tie back up and ran his hands over Dean’s shoulders.

 

Dean looked up into Sam’s face and got lost in all the emotions he saw playing there. His brother’s lips were a perfect shade of deep pink, swollen from all the kissing, and his hair was curling up at his temples. Dean ran a finger over Sam’s lips gently, he’d done that, made Sam’s lips get all puffy and kissable. His hand pushed the curls back from his face and held the back of Sam’s head, he pulled him down for a lingering kiss that tried to say everything they weren’t saying out loud.

 

“We still doing dinner at your place?” Dean asked, once they’d reluctantly parted.

 

“Yes, I’m making us hamburgers, Wesson-style,” Sam said.

 

It was still so strange to hear Sam referring to himself as anything other than a Winchester. Dean got over the momentary twinge of strangeness as Sam gathered up his bag and opened the door.

 

“Glad I could help, Mr. Smith. Let me know if your system gives you any more trouble,” Sam said loudly, winking at him theatrically.

  
Dean waved and tried not to laugh at Sam’s exit line. He could still taste Sam on his tongue, his skin felt warmer wherever Sam’s hands had been, and he knew it probably smelled like sex in his office. He smiled at the thought of Zachariah coming in here now, and put his head down to try and finish his afternoon’s worth of work.

 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

 

Sam was a surprisingly good cook, it wasn’t anything fancy, just hamburgers and a nice salad. Dean was impressed though, another thought of how good it could be for Sam to live like this, his soul unsullied by memories of hell and death and destruction. Sam practically floated around the kitchen, it was just plain fun to watch him move while he worked.

 

Maybe it was a similar thing for his Sam back home, watching him in the kitchen. He’d never questioned why Sam would do research in there just before mealtimes. And he did occasionally find Sam watching him while he cooked. Maybe there was something there that he hadn’t admitted before. The phrase erotically codependent from Zachariah earlier that day suddenly sprang up. Was that the lesson? That this was something they could have back in their real world? He internally scoffed, but apparently made the noise out loud.

 

“What? Thought you were having fun ogling me while I’m slaving away on your dessert,” Sam said, one hand on his hip and one eyebrow cocked up.

 

“Can we skip it?” Dean asked, prowling forward, all thoughts of Zachariah, Chuck and Amara blown away by how sexy Sam was just then.

 

“Two nights in a row with no dessert?” Sam said with a sly grin.

 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Dean said, slotting their bodies together, pressing Sam against the counter. They kissed slow and longing, not hurried or rushed, not frantic, just a perfect slow exploration. Dean felt himself going weak in the knees, that was actually a real thing, who knew? Sam must have noticed because he turned them around and hoisted Dean up onto the counter.

 

Sam kissed away the objections Dean was starting to raise at being manhandled. “Just stop, dude, you love it, we both know that,” Sam said.

 

“Want you, Sammy,” Dean said, sounding so desperate he felt himself blush hot and red all over in a mad flush.

 

“I know, I want you too, you feel?” Sam asked, pressing Dean’s hand to cover his hard-on. “God you get me so hot, so fast, Dean,” Sam said, trailing teasing kisses up the side of his neck.

 

Dean began to feel a little strange, even stupid just sitting there on Sam’s counter and started to get down.

 

“No, just stay there,” Sam said with a firm hand to his stomach. That hand opened his jeans and took him out. Before Dean could react, Sam’s mouth was engulfing him, first sucking in the head of his cock then taking in even more of Dean’s length. Sam’s head bobbed up and down as he started up a fantastic rhythm.

 

Dean groaned and let one of his hands tangle in Sam’s hair. “Damn, Sammy, that’s so good,” Dean groaned as he felt the softness at the back of Sam’s throat. He thrust up and past it, going all the way down. Sam sped up, sucking harder and faster. Dean couldn’t help his thrusts, he squeezed his eyes shut and came hot and hard down Sam’s throat. “Sammy!“ he shouted as the wave of pleasure hit him.

 

Sam was scrambling up, taking down his jeans and jacking himself fast and furious, kissing Dean with his dirty mouth, god it tasted like heaven, his seed on Sam’s lips, that taste together, he’d always wanted to know. Now he had to, just absolutely had to taste Sam for himself.

 

“No, my turn now,” Dean said, hopping off the counter on unsteady legs. He dropped to his knees and pushed Sam up against the counter. Sam fed his cock into Dean’s open and waiting mouth, one slow inch at a time. Dean looked up through his wet eyelashes and could see him, his Sam, his Sammy, losing himself to the pleasure. He sucked harder and faster than he‘d ever thought possible. He felt it deep inside his throat then, just how much Sam was filling him and he laughed for the joy of it.

 

The vibrations from that laugh were the last straw for Sam, he tried to pull Dean off, but Dean clamped his hands on Sam’s hips and fucked his mouth down harder. The taste, the heat of it filling his mouth. He’d always wanted this, oh god, it was so good.

 

Sam was pulling him up into his arms, and Dean couldn’t think straight, couldn’t think past the taste as Sam kissed him deeply, their flavors combining into something Dean had never dared imagine. It was perfect. “What do you mean you always wanted to taste it?” Sam asked against his lips.

 

“You, always wanted to taste this, uh..us together,“ Dean said, dazed, forgetting which Sam he was kissing, which Sam he was tasting. It was his Sam, just with one thing missing.

  
“I know what you mean by always, even though we’ve only known each other like a week. It seems like I’ve wanted this for basically forever.”

 

“Can we, I mean, would you mind if I stayed?” Dean asked, feeling the sleepiness of post-orgasm bliss come over him. He let himself sink even further into Sam’s embrace.

 

Sam chuckled against the side of Dean’s head and began leading him down the short hall to his bedroom. “You are always welcome in my bed, Dean, always.”

 

Dean shivered at Sam’s words as his heart processed what they meant without his brain getting in the way. It was all confirmed with the gentle way Sam removed his clothes and tucked him into bed. They were wrapped up together under the quilt, and Dean felt himself sinking into sleep.

 

“Feels like this was a long time coming, like it was meant to be or something,” Sam said.

 

“Same here, Sammy, same for me, I’m glad you gave me another chance,” Dean said.

 

“I always will, I’m not going to give up on you Dean,” Sam said.

 

“You never have, Sammy, not once,” Dean said.

 

The morning came and something was different, he was naked, and there was a warm body wrapped around him, breathing slow and steady in a pattern he recognized. The smell of sex and Sam combined woke Dean up in an instant, there was a moment of freezing panic.

 

“It’s okay, Dean. I figured it out, who I am, who we are,” Sam said in that sleepy quiet voice that always made Dean feel lucky to hear it.

 

“You did, you do?” Dean asked, turning in Sam’s arms so he could look at his face. “Since when?”

 

“After you fell asleep, I started thinking about how you talked about us. You said I’d never given up you, not once, which seemed strange.I got up and tried calling Jo again, but got the same message. So I started researching, and there’s no Sam Wesson, not since like a week ago. And there’s not a Dean Smith either. It all came back to me when I got back into bed and saw your tattoo in the light from the bathroom. I remembered you holding my hand while I got it all those years ago, and when I got it fixed up just recently. You held my hand so tightly, kept me distracted from the pain. And then I saw the marks I’d left on you last night. It all crashed in on me while I remembered.”

 

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

 

“You were so, um…so beautiful, asleep in my bed, finally after all these years.”

 

“Wait, you mean…” Dean trailed off, unable to finish the question, it was too big to put into words.

 

“Yeah, this is what I’ve always wanted,” Sam said.

 

“It’s not though, you never would have gone after me if you’d known who we were, that we’re brothers. You wanted normal, Sam. You wanted out, remember?”

 

“No, I only wanted out because I thought I couldn’t ever have a chance at this, couldn’t have you,” Sam said.

 

“Shit, so I did do it, I screwed you up for life, I’m sorry, Sammy, I wish—“ Dean stopped himself.

 

“Wish what, Dean?”

 

“Wish I’d been able to resist you here in this world, but I wasn’t strong enough,” Dean said.

 

“Hold on, hold on. First of all, you didn’t screw me up for life, Dean. This is all me, since I figured out what loving someone meant. It was you, Dean, always has been. And you were plenty strong here, believe me. I almost gave up, thought you didn’t want me, didn’t even want to try.”

 

“I never wanted you to know,” Dean said.

 

“Why the hell not? We could have had this for years, Dean. We could have made each other so happy, I know we could have.”

 

“No, it wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have, god, Sammy, I’m so sorry. I took advantage of you last night. I can’t make…I should just go.” Dean untangled himself from Sam and stood up, quickly putting his clothes back on. He was surprised that Sam didn’t say anything.

 

“Still not giving up on you.” Sam’s whisper followed him out the door and back to his car. His brother’s quiet words penetrated him deeply but they weren’t enough to block out the wave of self-loathing that came over him. He pounded the steering wheel of the Prius, breaking off a piece of plastic.

 

“Piece of shit car!” Dean yelled as he pressed the accelerator down to the floor. The Prius eventually leapt into action, and he was speeding down the expressway. He didn’t know where he was going, what he should do next. They needed to get out of this fucking place, back to where everything made sense, where everything stayed in its place, where he’d stuffed it and hidden it. He felt so exposed here, so naked and afraid that Sam could see all of him.

 

“It’s a lot isn’t it?” Chuck asked from the passenger seat.

 

“Yeah, it’s probably too much for a human mind to deal with,” Amara agreed from the back seat.

 

Dean was proud of himself for not swerving into the semi next to him in the other lane. “Guys! I’m doing ninety in fucking Prius here, not such a great time to just pop in!”

 

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Amara smirked from the back seat.

 

“I know it’s a total dad move, but mister, you need to turn this car around right now,” Chuck said.

 

“You can’t make me, oh shit never mind. Just kill me and put me out of my misery already,” Dean said, feeling completely defeated.

 

“This whole lesson wasn’t just about you, or your self-imposed bullshit misery, Dean. You’re going to go back to Sam’s place, let him fix you breakfast, and give you one last chance.”

 

“Fine,” Dean grumped, signaling for the exit. He headed the car back towards Sam and already his heart felt lighter.

 

“See, you feel that, right?” Amara said with a manic grin that was scary to see in the rear view mirror. “That’s what we’re talking about!”

 

Both of them winked out again, leaving Dean to listen to the rest of an NPR story about a family that had returned to New Orleans, all these years after Katrina. It kept his mind off what he had to do next, which was to put an end to this and get them out of this place.

 

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

 

Sam was just putting another waffle to cook in the waffle iron on his kitchen counter. He had two mugs of steaming coffee on the table too.

 

“You knew I’d come back?” Dean asked, standing in Sam’s kitchen doorway.

 

Sam shrugged, not looking at Dean, fiddling with the waffle iron until it beeped. He forked up the golden brown waffle and laid it on a plate that already had two waffles covered in foil on it. He set the plate on the table next to the coffees and sat down. Dean watched as Sam methodically covered the waffle in pats of butter, smearing them around until they’d melted into all the squares, then covered the whole thing in maple syrup. His mouth watered and he got over himself. He sat down at the place Sam had made for him, at his breakfast table, and in his life. Sam smiled and clinked their coffee mugs together in a little salute or welcome.

 

“I’m going to call in sick this morning,” Dean said, after he’d eaten two waffles and drained his coffee.

 

“I already did,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window at the street below.

 

“Sammy, we’re stuck here until we learn a lesson,” Dean said, trying to begin at the beginning of the case, like they always did.

 

“Yeah, I know, I had a visit from them while you were out having your little freakout or whatever the hell that was,” Sam said, swirling the remaining coffee in his mug.

 

“Amara put Mom back in her Heaven,” Dean said.

 

“Yeah, they told me. Probably for the best, she wasn’t happy with us.”

 

“We have to figure this out, I can’t live like this,” Dean said, gesturing to the strange world around them.

 

“You mean with me, like this, or just the world?” Sam asked.

 

“Just the world,” Dean said, “I want to be like this with you, but in our world.”

 

Sam set his mug down and finally met Dean’s eyes. Dean saw then how much he’d hurt this man by leaving, how much it cost Sam to not give up on him.

 

“You’ve never given up on me, Sammy, not once in our whole lives. And I’ve probably taken advantage of that one time too many by now. But if you’ll have me, I’d like to try.”

 

Sam’s face flushed red and hot, and he blinked several times, obviously trying not to cry. Dean’s heart sank, he’d pushed it too far, used up too much of Sam’s forgiving nature. They were never getting out of here.

 

“You idiot, it’s not even a question,” Sam said, quiet and tense. “And that you don’t know that by now, is maybe a problem.”

 

“I do know that, I was just trying to make sure you knew you had a choice,” Dean said.

 

Sam chuckled a little. “Chuck is all about personal agency now, I heard the whole spiel from Amara. She’s still a little unclear on the concept.”

 

“So what do you choose then?” Dean asked, heart in his throat that Sam wouldn’t or couldn’t answer.

 

Sam stood up and waited a few beats, then he scooped Dean up into his arms. “You, Dean, in case you haven’t noticed, I always choose you.”

 

Dean looked up into Sam’s eyes and saw it all, every time a choice had come, when Sam had the option, he’d chosen Dean. And it was the same for him. Sam was right, they had both been idiots all these years.

 

In the morning sunbeams that were coming in through Sam’s kitchen windows Dean leaned up and kissed him, sure and true. It was a blur after that, but they were back in Sam’s bed and he had his fingers inside, opening Sam up. Sam was handing him lube and stroking it along his hard cock and it felt like the first time and all the other times they should have…could have as he pressed into his brother’s body.

 

Sam held him, deep inside, hot and close, a perfect fit. They moved together, push and pull, thrust and carry, until they couldn’t hold back, both coming with their lips pressed together, their names feeding into each other’s mouths.

 

He woke up to knocking, someone knocking on his door. And it smelled like Sam again, thank god, but home too. They were in his bed, naked, still entwined. Dean pulled out of Sam as slowly as he could, Sam humphed and turned over into his pillow pulling the covers over his head. Dean grabbed his robe and pulled it on.

 

“Yeah?” Dean asked as he opened the door, tying the robe’s belt tightly around his waist.

 

Jack’s smiling face greeted him. “Good morning, Dean, could you tell me where the extra coffee is? I couldn’t find it and I wanted to make some for you and Sam.”

 

Dean smiled and led Jack down the hall, closing his door quietly behind him. “Let’s let him sleep in a little more, huh? I’ll show you where it is. Feel like making waffles for breakfast?”

 

“Those are the square pancakes, right?” Jack asked.

 

“Yep, those are the ones,” Dean said, turning the lights on in their kitchen.

 

“If you show me how, I’ll make them,” Jack said.

 

“Sure, kid we’ll get the waffle iron heating up and mix up some batter. The coffee’s in the cabinet over the fridge, up there,” Dean said pointing it out.

 

Jack got the coffee down while Dean got out the bag of pancake mix and his favorite bowl.

 

“Now, the trick is to use warm water, it gets the batter rising up nice and fluffy,” Dean said. Neither of them noticed Sam slipping into the kitchen and seating himself gingerly at the table.

 

Dean finally did catch a glimpse of Sam watching him show Jack the right technique to pour into a hot waffle iron. And now he knew that the smile on his brother’s face was sweeter than any syrup he’d ever tasted.

 

_The End_

 

 


End file.
